Hurricane Katrina-Our Experiences
> Larry Bradshaw, Lorrie Beth Slonsky
>
> Two days after Hurricane Katrina struck
> New Orleans, the Walgreen's
> store at the corner of Royal and
> Iberville streets remained locked. The
> dairy display case was clearly visible
> through the widows. It was now 48 hours
> without electricity, running water,
> plumbing. The milk, yogurt, and cheeses
> were beginning to spoil in the 90-
> degree heat. The owners and managers had
> locked up the food, water, pampers, and
> prescriptions and fled the City.
> Outside Walgreen's windows, residents
> and tourists grew increasingly thirsty
> and hungry.
>
> The much-promised federal, state and
> local aid never materialized and
> the windows at Walgreen's gave way to
> the looters. There was an alternative.
> The cops could have broken one small
> window and distributed the nuts, fruit
> juices, and bottle water in an
> organized and systematic manner. But
> they did not. Instead they spent hours
> playing cat and mouse, temporarily
> chasing away the looters.
>
> We were finally airlifted out of New
> Orleans two days ago and arrived
> home yesterday (Saturday). We have yet
> to see any of the TV coverage or look
> at a newspaper. We are willing to guess
> that there were no video images or
> front-page pictures of European or
> affluent white tourists looting the
> Walgreen's in the French Quarter.
>
> We also suspect the media will have
> been inundated with "hero" images of
> the National Guard, the troops and the
> police struggling to help the
> "victims" of the Hurricane. What you
> will not see, but what we
> witnessed,were the
> real heroes and sheroes of the
> hurricane relief effort: the working
> class of New Orleans. The maintenance
> workers who used a fork lift to carry
> the sick and
> disabled. The engineers, who rigged,
> nurtured and kept the generators
> running. The electricians who
> improvised thick extension cords
> stretching
> over blocks to share the little
> electricity we had in order to free cars
> stuck on rooftop parking lots. Nurses
> who took over for mechanical
> ventilators and spent many hours on end
> manually forcing air into the
> lungs of unconscious patients to keep
> them alive. Doormen who rescued folks
> stuck in elevators.
>
> Refinery workers who broke into boat
> yards, "stealing" boats to rescue
> their
> neighbors clinging to their roofs in
> flood waters. Mechanics who helped
> hot-wire any car that could be found to
> ferry people out of the City.
> And
> the food service workers who scoured
> the commercial kitchens improvising
> communal meals for hundreds of those
> stranded.
>
> Most of these workers had lost their
> homes, and had not heard from
> members
> of their families, yet they stayed and
> provided the only infrastructure
> for
> the 20% of New Orleans that was not
> under water.
>
> On Day 2, there were approximately 500
> of us left in the hotels in the
> French Quarter. We were a mix of
> foreign tourists, conference attendees
> like
> ourselves, and locals who had checked
> into hotels for safety and shelter
> from Katrina. Some of us had cell phone
> contact with family and friends
> outside of New Orleans. We were
> repeatedly told that all sorts of
> resources
> including the National Guard and scores
> of buses were pouring in to the
> City. The buses and the other resources
> must have been invisible because
> none of us had seen them.
>
> We decided we had to save ourselves. So
> we pooled our money and came up
> with
> $25,000 to have ten buses come and take
> us out of the City. Those who
> did not have the requisite $45.00 for a
> ticket were subsidized by those who
> did have extra money. We waited for 48
> hours for the buses, spending the
> last 12 hours standing outside, sharing
> the limited water, food, and clothes we
> had.
>
> We created a priority boarding area for
> the sick, elderly and new born
> babies. We waited late into the night
> for the "imminent" arrival of the
> buses. The buses never arrived. We
> later learned that the minute the
> arrived
> to the City limits, they were
> commandeered by the military.
>
> By day 4 our hotels had run out of fuel
> and water. Sanitation was
> dangerously abysmal. As the desperation
> and despair increased, street
> crime
> as well as water levels began to rise.
> The hotels turned us out and
> locked their doors, telling us that
> the "officials" told us to report to the
> convention center to wait for more
> buses. As we entered the center of
> the City, we finally encountered the
> National Guard. The Guards told us we
> would not be allowed into the Superdome
> as the City's primary shelter had
> descended into a humanitarian and
> health hellhole.
>
> The guards further told us that the
> City's only other shelter, the
> Convention Center, was also descending
> into chaos and squalor and that
> the
> police were not allowing anyone else
> in. Quite naturally, we asked, "If
> we can't go to the only 2 shelters in
> the City, what was our alternative?"
> The guards told us that that was our
> problem, and no they did not have extra
> water to give to us. This would be the
> start of our numerous encounters
> with callous and hostile "law
> enforcement".
>
> We walked to the police command center
> at Harrah's on Canal Street and
> were told the same thing, that we were
> on our own, and no they did not have
> water to give us. We now numbered
> several hundred. We held a mass meeting
> to
> decide a course of action. We agreed to
> camp outside the police command
> post. We would be plainly visible to
> the media and would constitute a
> highly
> visible embarrassment to the City
> officials. The police told us that we
> could not stay. Regardless, we began to
> settle in and set up camp. In
> short order, the police commander came
> across the street to address our group.
> He told us he had a solution: we should
> walk to the Pontchartrain
> Expressway and cross the greater New
> Orleans Bridge where the police had
> buses lined up
> to take us out of the City.
>
> The crowed cheered and began to move.
> We called everyone back and
> explained
> to the commander that there had been
> lots of misinformation and wrong
> information and was he sure that there
> were buses waiting for us. The
> commander turned to the crowd and
> stated emphatically, "I swear to you
> that the buses are there."
>
> We organized ourselves and the 200 of
> us set off for the bridge with
> great
> excitement and hope. As we marched
> pasted the convention center, many
> locals
> saw our determined and optimistic group
> and asked where we were headed.
> We
> told them about the great news.
> Families immediately grabbed their few
> belongings and quickly our numbers
> doubled and then doubled again.
> Babies in strollers now joined us,
> people using crutches, elderly clasping
> walkers and others people in
> wheelchairs. We marched the 2-3 miles
> to the freeway and up the steep incline
> to the Bridge. It now began to pour
> down rain, but it did not dampen our
> enthusiasm.
>
> As we approached the bridge, armed
> Gretna sheriffs formed a line across
> the
> foot of the bridge. Before we were
> close enough to speak, they began
> firing
> their weapons over our heads. This sent
> the crowd fleeing in various
> directions. As the crowd scattered and
> dissipated, a few of us inched
> forward and managed to engage some of
> the sheriffs in conversation. We
> told them of our conversation with the
> police commander and of the
> commander's assurances. The sheriffs
> informed us there were no buses
> waiting. The commander had lied to us
> to get us to move.
>
> We questioned why we couldn't cross the
> bridge anyway, especially as
> there
> was little traffic on the 6-lane
> highway. They responded that the West
> Bank was not going to become New
> Orleans and there would be no
> Superdomes in their City. These were
> code words for if you are poor and
> black, you are not crossing the
> Mississippi River and you were not
> getting out of New Orleans.
>
> Our small group retreated back down
> Highway 90 to seek shelter from the
> rain
> under an overpass. We debated our
> options and in the end decided to
> build an encampment in the middle of
> the Ponchartrain Expressway on the
> center divide, between the O'Keefe and
> Tchoupitoulas exits. We reasoned we
> would be visible to everyone, we would
> have some security being on an elevated
> freeway and we could wait and watch for
> the arrival of the yet to be
> seen buses.
>
> All day long, we saw other families,
> individuals and groups make the
> same
> trip up the incline in an attempt to
> cross the bridge, only to be turned
> away. Some chased away with gunfire,
> others simply told no, others to be
> verbally berated and humiliated.
> Thousands of New Orleaners were
> prevented and prohibited from self-
> evacuating the City on foot.
>
> Meanwhile, the only two City shelters
> sank further into squalor and
> disrepair. The only way across the
> bridge was by vehicle. We saw workers
> stealing trucks, buses, moving vans,
> semi-trucks and any car that could
> be
> hotwired. All were packed with people
> trying to escape the misery New
> Orleans had become.
>
> Our little encampment began to blossom.
> Someone stole a water delivery
> truck
> and brought it up to us. Let's hear it
> for looting! A mile or so down
> the freeway, an army truck lost a
> couple of pallets of C-rations on a
> tight turn. We ferried the food back to
> our camp in shopping carts.
>
> Now secure with the two necessities,
> food and water; cooperation,
> community,
> and creativity flowered. We organized a
> clean up and hung garbage bags
> from
> the rebar poles. We made beds from wood
> pallets and cardboard. We
> designated
> a storm drain as the bathroom and the
> kids built an elaborate enclosure
> for privacy out of plastic, broken
> umbrellas, and other scraps. We even
> organized a food recycling system where
> individuals could swap out parts
> of C-rations (applesauce for babies and
> candies for kids!).
>
> This was a process we saw repeatedly in
> the aftermath of Katrina.  When
> individuals had to fight to find food
> or water, it meant looking out for
> yourself only. You had to do whatever
> it took to find water for your
> kids or
> food for your parents. When these basic
> needs were met, people began to
> look out for each other, working
> together and constructing a community.
>
> If the relief organizations had
> saturated the City with food and water
> in
> the first 2 or 3 days, the desperation,
> the frustration and the ugliness
> would not have set in.
>
> Flush with the necessities, we offered
> food and water to passing
> families and individuals. Many decided
> to stay and join us. Our encampment grew
> to 80 or 90 people.
>
> From a woman with a battery powered
> radio we learned that the media was
> talking about us. Up in full view on
> the freeway, every relief and news
> organizations saw us on their way into
> the City. Officials were being
> asked
> what they were going to do about all
> those families living up on the
> freeway? The officials responded they
> were going to take care of us.
> Some of us got a sinking
> feeling. "Taking care of us" had an
> ominous tone to it.
>
> Unfortunately, our sinking feeling
> (along with the sinking City) was
> correct. Just as dusk set in, a Gretna
> Sheriff showed up, jumped out of
> his
> patrol vehicle, aimed his gun at our
> faces, screaming, "Get off the
> fucking freeway". A helicopter arrived
> and used the wind from its blades to
> blow away our flimsy structures. As we
> retreated, the sheriff loaded up his
> truck with our food and water.
>
> Once again, at gunpoint, we were forced
> off the freeway. All the law
> enforcement agencies appeared
> threatened when we congregated or
> congealed
> into groups of 20 or more. In every
> congregation of "victims"
> they saw "mob" or "riot". We felt
> safety in numbers. Our "we must stay
> together" was impossible because the
> agencies would force us into small
> atomized groups.
>
> In the pandemonium of having our camp
> raided and destroyed, we scattered
> once again. Reduced to a small group of
> 8 people, in the dark, we sought
> refuge in an abandoned school bus,
> under the freeway on Cilo Street. We
> were
> hiding from possible criminal elements
> but equally and definitely, we
> were
> hiding from the police and sheriffs
> with their martial law, curfew and
> shoot-to-kill policies.
>
> The next days, our group of 8 walked
> most of the day, made contact with
> New
> Orleans Fire Department and were
> eventually airlifted out by an urban
> search
> and rescue team. We were dropped off
> near the airport and managed to
> catch a ride with the National Guard.
> The two young guardsmen apologized for
> the limited response of the Louisiana
> guards. They explained that a large
> section of their unit was in Iraq and
> that meant they were shorthanded
> and were unable to complete all the
> tasks they were assigned.
>
> We arrived at the airport on the day a
> massive airlift had begun. The
> airport had become another Superdome.
> We 8 were caught in a press of
> humanity as flights were delayed for
> several hours while George Bush
> landed
> briefly at the airport for a photo op.
> After being evacuated on a coast
> guard cargo plane, we arrived in San
> Antonio, Texas.
>
> There the humiliation and
> dehumanization of the official relief
> effort
> continued. We were placed on buses and
> driven to a large field where we
> were
> forced to sit for hours and hours. Some
> of the buses did not have
> air-conditioners. In the dark, hundreds
> if us were forced to share two
> filthy overflowing porta-potties. Those
> who managed to make it out with
> any possessions (often a few belongings
> in tattered plastic bags) we were
> subjected to two different dog-sniffing
> searches.
>
> Most of us had not eaten all day
> because our C-rations had been
> confiscated
> at the airport because the rations set
> off the metal detectors. Yet, no
> food had been provided to the men,
> women, children, elderly, disabled as
> they sat for hours waiting to
> be "medically screened" to make sure we
> were not carrying any communicable
> diseases.
>
> This official treatment was in sharp
> contrast to the warm, heart-felt
> reception given to us by the ordinary
> Texans. We saw one airline worker
> give her shoes to someone who was
> barefoot. Strangers on the street
> offered us money and toiletries with
> words of welcome. Throughout, the
> official relief effort was callous,
> inept, and racist. There was more
> suffering than need be. Lives were lost
> that did not need to be lost.

--
Lisa Saunders, Ph.D.
Associate Professor of Economics
University of Massachusetts
Amherst, MA 01003